


Seeker of Truth

by dragoncecil, Kilieit (p_3a)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Additional Tags by Chapter, Gen, M/M, short story collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 05:23:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 9,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8000149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragoncecil/pseuds/dragoncecil, https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_3a/pseuds/Kilieit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tales from the unending journey of Aghurlal Qar-aKimusun, and his adventuring partner Shirogawa Mitsuhiko, as they become Warriors of Light... and beyond.</p><p>A series of disjointed one-shots covering different parts of the Main Scenario Quest for Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn, from patch 2.0 to present.<br/>Assumes pre-knowledge of + contains spoilers for all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Escape from Castrum Centri

**Author's Note:**

> Aghurlal is mine, Shiro is dragoncecil's. The prose is mine, but Shiro's dialogue is usually written by dragoncecil and they have a heavy amount of input for the direction of each short.
> 
> Ratings and additional warnings, as well as timeline information, will be at the beginning of each short. Sometimes the end notes will contain a link to another stand-alone story of mine which happens immediately following, or between that short and the next.
> 
> I'll try and keep the work overall in chronological order as the MSQ shows. This means I might rearrange later chapters to be earlier in the work as I add them, if they're set at a time before the ones I've already written.
> 
> Also, this fic is primarily self-indulgent and was written as a way to improve my enjoyment of the MSQ as I completed it. I hope you enjoy to read it too, but it's already served its primary purpose, as entertainment to me.
> 
> Lastly, the Aghurlal portrayed in these shorts is not the same Aghurlal as you might meet during in-game roleplay. More information [here](http://kilieit.tumblr.com/post/137770409992).

Aghurlal lay in his cot at Camp Bronze Lake, and stared at the ceiling.

And remembered.

Gaining entry to the complex had been shockingly easy. A few disparaging comments about Eorzeans here, a snapped salute there, and they were as good as Garlean to all around. It told Aghurlal something simple: either the higher-ups among the Garleans were much better at infiltration, or they’d had third-party help gaining entry to the Waking Sands. The theory about the Ascians probably wasn’t too far from the mark, but Aghurlal wouldn’t put his faith in it until he saw proof.

The rescue itself had truly begun in earnest when they breached the chamber where the Archons were being transferred. Freeing Papalymo and Urianger was paramount - or they’d all die for want of a quick Cure - and as Aghurlal knelt to undo the bindings on the Lalafell’s wrists, Shirogawa at his back to defend him in the mean time, he asked something quickly and quietly.  
“Where is Thancred?”  
Papalymo’s eyebrows went up. “You mean _you_  don’t know where he is?”

There wasn’t time to talk. Biggs and Wedge weren’t exactly combatants themselves, and Aghurlal’s lance was needed alongside Shirogawa’s arrows to help topple their would-be captors. Arrows collected and captives loosed, they made their way out of the chamber.

It was lucky the others seemed to know where they were going and what the were doing, because Aghurlal was simply following along. So maybe it was little wonder when he was struck across the stomach - by what, he didn’t register, but he knew that combat had begun.

They fought. It was when Aghurlal went to thrust his lance high into the “face” of the Garlean war-magitek that he realised something was truly the matter. He found himself suddenly doubled over in pain, and the surge of aether that Papalymo directed his way didn’t help redress the issue. He struggled even to roll out of the way of the incoming plasma cannon blast; Minfilia calling his name caught his attention, and he could see her through his blurred vision, calling him her way.

He didn’t remember how he made it there, but she put pressure on his wounds and told him he’d been shot. She was saying something about low-calibre and shrapnel when Aghurlal passed out again.

He didn’t dream. He heard more of that “gun fire” that the Garleans somehow loved more than life itself. The sun’s light played across his eyelids; or maybe it was from spellcasting. He felt himself being carried by two pairs of arms; he felt himself being set down on the ground, and as the blood rushed back into his head he started to regain consciousness.

Just in time for Y’shtola to arrive. He sat up slowly beneath her shimmering barrier, Minfilia crouched by his side and Shirogawa helping him stay upright.

“None of you saw Thancred anywhere, did you?” asked Papalymo, somewhere to Aghurlal’s side. “I’m beginning to fear for the fellow…”

Much closer, and with a gentle hand on Aghurlal’s shoulder, Minfilia said “Just stay awake.”

He couldn’t.

Then they were on the airship. And Thancred was…

He remembered having a screaming row with Alphinaud while Papalymo snapped at him to stop disturbing his wounds. He must have passed out again, because they had already arrived back in Ul’dah by the time he regained consciousness again.

He could walk, this time - supporting himself with the shaft of his lance as a makeshift cane - but he didn’t take in much of what was said in the Fragrant Chamber. Once the relief of knowing Eorzea was still to resist the Garlean menace washed over him, everything else had come crashing down on him - he heard Merlwyb’s cry of concern, and the next thing he knew, he was waking to the sound of seagulls.

At least he was going to be able to recover at home in Limsa, it seemed.

A scholar explained things to him. He’d been hit in the stomach with a number of small, low-powered bullets. They’d embedded pieces of his armour into his body, and the internal bleeding had incapacitated him severely. A piece of his hip had been chipped off, and his muscles were badly damaged; luckily, everything vital had been missed, but it was going to take him weeks to recover even with regular magical healing.

So he’d done the course of magic, and then been sent to Camp Bronze Lake to recover his strength and, the medic had said with concern, “your zeal”.

Aghurlal didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. But at least Shirogawa had been able to come with him.


	2. The Ultimate Weapon, Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screenshot ft. OOC appearances from tumblr users rivenroad, lordofthehive, ofthegoldenleaf, and onwesterlywinds, who helped us get our clears for this series of quests.

Aghurlal had to confess - this time yesterday, he didn’t think they’d even get this far. But here they were - about to descend to the chamber of the Ultima Weapon, destroying Garlemald’s hope of this being the year they’d take over Eorzea.

“Shirogawa, would you activate the console for us?”

But Shirogawa was frozen.

Aghurlal didn’t know what to do. He’d never done this, before. It was always Shirogawa comforting him, soothing him - he knew the day would come to return the favour, but he had hoped it wouldn’t be today.

He stepped up anyway.

He held Shirogawa’s hand, held his cheek - reminded him of all the feats they’d accomplished together. Maybe he was just a bard, and Aghurlal just a lancer - but they’d fought primals, and won. They’d fought Garlean magitek, and won. This creature was no more than the sum of its parts - parts they’d both triumphed over before.

They embraced, and Aghurlal felt Shirogawa’s heartbeat slowing. He’d rekindled his partner’s spirit… but as the lift began to descend, Aghurlal wasn’t what could be said of his own.


	3. The Ultimate Weapon, Pt. 2

Today was the day that Gaius van Baelsar made a mistake.

He tried to tell two young men from Othard that the Empire was better for Eorzea than the Allied Grand Companies.

It was Aghurlal who lost his temper first. If he could breathe fire, he would have been spitting sparks. He slammed the blunt end of his appropriated magitek lance on the ground. “Shut the fuck up! Where was your mighty Empire while the Isüsiregen destroyed lives all o'er the Steppes?! I took care of the problem myself; just like I took myself to Eorzea! And they were the two best decisions I ever made!”

Shirogawa was always the more eloquent of the two, and his elegant words - which had been used so sweetly to soothe Sylphs and engender agreements throughout their adventures together - now turned cutting and sharp. He praised Eorzea’s beauty and companionship, then turned on Van Baelsar - decrying him for his barbaric attempts at destroying something wonderful, simply because it could not be his in its current state.

It was clear they were not going to agree. Van Baelsar’s attempts at recruiting the pair fell on deaf horns.

“I shall slay you as I slayed Dalubcierlig Isüsiregen,” snarled Aghurlal; “and as I shall slay every corrupted scourge of this fair world!”

And so the inevitable came about: a clash of arms.

To which the Black Wolf fell, of course. But the fight was not over - for by the time they had defeated him, they had reached the hangar…


	4. The Ultimate Weapon, Pt. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screenshot ft. OOC appearances from tumblr users rivenroad, lordofthehive, ofthegoldenleaf, and onwesterlywinds, who helped us get our clears for this series of quests.

There it was.

The device all of this had been about.

Ultima Weapon.

As Gaius Van Baelsar - weakened, but unfortunately not incapacitated - approached the machine, Aghurlal glanced over at Shirogawa. Sure enough, the man was staring at the Ultima Weapon with wide eyes. Gently, Aghurlal reached over and took his hand.

“Together,” he reminded. And Shirogawa nodded, seeming reassured.

Then Van Baelsar had control of the thing; and the combat begun.

It had been a long time coming. Aghurlal, Shirogawa, and their allies were among the sharpest mortal opponents the Weapon could have hoped to fight. Each lance strike tore chunks of the Weapon’s tubes from its inner workings; each well-placed arrow Shirogawa shot took out a connector, or a power supply. Its auxhiliary attacks didn’t strike true, and so Van Baelsar put to use its primary power: the might of the Primals.

Yet all at once, the arena was engulfed in light not of the Weapon’s making. Aghurlal didn’t pause in his attacks; yet before him, he saw Garuda torn from the body of the Weapon, dashed on the ground, and dispersed.

Van Baelsar was outraged. But the Warriors of Light were heartened by Hydaelyn’s intervention, and fought all the braver for it.

Titan’s essence soon went the same way; and although Aghurlal knew somewhere in the back of his mind that it would happen, somehow nothing quite prepared him for seeing Ifrit torn from the hulking machine.

Time seemed to freeze.

The Primal was tossed to the ground; but Aghurlal saw only the flames. Ifrit’s essence evaporated - but Aghurlal saw only the haunting memories of what had been. Left alone in the Bowl of Embers; no Immortal soldiers, no Scions. No Thancred. Just him and Ifrit.

But– no. Someone’s hand was on his back, someone was calling his name–

“…Shiro?” He blinked, his lance mercifully still clutched in both hands. The bard had crossed the battlefield to be at his side - right next to the flank of the Ultima Weapon he’d been so afraid of.

“You’re not alone,” Shirogawa said; and somehow, despite the sounds of battle going on around them, Aghurlal heard him loud and clear.

He set his sights on the Weapon once more.

It wasn’t long before the husk of Ultima Weapon began to flag - sensing victory, the Warriors of Light closed in. Yet another factor soon stopped their charge: that of Lahabrea’s appearance.

Van Baelsar was, of course, infuriated by Lahabrea’s deception regarding the nature of the Weapon. But if it would allow him to destroy these meddling individuals, then it would seem he could set his qualms aside for a moment.

The Eye of Sabik began to charge. And although Aghurlal heard Lahabrea’s warnings, although he should have thought of how to preserve his life through this awful attack over anything else, should have felt terror - only one thing occured to him.

Shirogawa.

It seemed the other Au Ra had the same thought, because they found themselves running to one another, catching in the tightest hug they’d ever shared; and then the blast went off, ringing through their horns and blinding their eyes.

It should have killed them. Yet from hearing the other’s heartbeat, thinking of the other’s face, feeling their breath against their skin - they knew they were alive.

The flames and dust slowly cleared, and there they were: Shirogawa and Aghurlal, and their allies shielded by a barrier borne of their Echo.

To say Van Baelsar was annoyed would be to make a gross understatement. Yet they were still here, and so was the Weapon. One or other had to be destroyed.

Aghurlal and his allies were determined for it not to be them. As it happened, they succeeded. But there was still one little problem.

Lahabrea… and Thancred.


	5. The Ultimate Weapon, Pt. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of patricide.

This was what Aghurlal had been dreading, truly. Because he’d tried so very hard to believe that Eorzea would be different. In Eorzea, he could make friends. He could date people. He could build strength in his own name, rather than the name of one he loathed. And he could play a role in the redemption of others without killing them.

But Thancred had been a thorn in the foot of that last forlorn hope, bringing it to a limp and finally a stop. And now, in this wretched forsaken place, Aghurlal was forced to face up to the task of putting it down altogether.

For how were they to even dream of finding a tiny crystal on the person of a man who was going to resist them at every turn? Left alone, Lahabrea’s influence on Eorzea would cause untold destruction, pain, and death. Yet to kill him… would be to kill the first friend he’d made here, to begin with. The man who had persuaded him to become a Scion in the first place. The first person he’d had his eye on since…

It was no matter. Lahabrea’s effects remained the same, regardless of the body in which he resided. It would _have_  to be terminated.

“Now make your choice,” Lahabrea taunted, “and live with it!”

Fury in his veins and sorrow in his heart, Aghurlal Qar-aKimusun went in for the kill.

And yet…

And yet…

There was something there hadn’t been, the first time. When he’d taken the blade to his father’s neck.

A voice called out behind him; crisp, sharp, clear, and loved.

“Aghurlal! What are you doing?!”  
“What has to be done!” He couldn’t take his eyes off his target. Shirogawa was lovely, but he was soft. He couldn’t comprehend this if he tried.  
“No, Aghurlal! We spoke about this, it doesn’t have to be done this way!  
"What, and you propose we nicely sit him down and bid him inform us of how to destroy him?!” It would be easy for him to sound furious, but he sounded on the verge of tears. He was about to thrust his spear hard at Thancrabrea, but caught the man’s eye for just a moment - and all he saw was Thancred. He faultered, and Lahabrea caught him across the shoulder with a spell, sending him reeling.  
“ _Aghurlal_!” Immediately Shriogawa towards the other Au Ra, which as a Bard was probably not his wisest moment; but he could not help but be concerned for Aghurlal’s well-being after such an attack.  
“It _has_ to be done this way, Shirogawa!” One of their allies covered them, taking Aghurlal’s place on the front line against the Ascian. “Or Lahabrea will only continue to sow destruction!”

At that moment, with Aghurlal’s wide and tear-filled eyes staring at Shiro for some sort of succor, Hydaelyn spoke through Shirogawa’s Echo: _Mark not the Dark Minion’s subtle words_. _Only Light may banish the Darkness. Receive of me this power, my child, and raise thy Crystal aloft!_

“Aghurlal, the crystals – Our crystals, the one we were able to collect on our adventures in Eorzea, we have to use them against Lahabrea!” Shirogawa grabbed at Aghurlal to help him up from the ground, his eyes wide now they had a solution.

“What??” Aghurlal was blatantly panicking, from the look on his face. “Wh– How?? Shirogawa, I–”  
“Only Light may banish the Darkness!” With that, Shiro offered his hand towards the other Au Ra - his eyes alight with love. “ _We_ are the Light, Aghurlal – You, and I!”

Aghurlal’s eyes met Shiro’s, and though tears spilled down his cheeks, a sort of calm settled in his gaze. Finally, he made his leap of faith - for Shirogawa, for Thancred, and for Eorzea. Quietly, he placed his hand in Shirogawa’s.

And then they weren’t in the Praetorium any longer.

This void, filled with stars and song, was familiar to the both of them by now. Since their arrival in Eorzea, it was something they’d shared - first the other had been cast in shadow, and then they’d been stood back-to-back to one another, only holding hands by way of contact.

Now, though, they stood face to face.

As usual, a magic circle appeared all at once beneath them. The crystals they’d collected, all six, hung in the aether surrounding them. But they didn’t activate right away, this time - they hung, silent, like they were waiting for something.

Aghurlal looked up into Shirogawa’s aether-shining eyes. Strangely, he felt completely calm - as if the last day or two hadn’t happened whatsoever. Shiro was looking back at him; the Raen’s hand came up to touch Aghurlal’s face. Instinctively, Aghurlal reached out to take his other hand.

The crystals hummed in anticipation. Aghurlal knew what to do; Shirogawa seemed to, as well.

They kissed.

The crystals lit up the sky.

As the Light closed in around them, they knew they had something important to do; so when the next thing they saw was Lahabrea, they were ready.

 _If ye wouldst pierce the shadows…_ Hydaelyn’s voice sang against their horns. _Make you a blade of Light!_

Aghurlal took his lance in hand. It vibrated in his hands; without looking, he knew it to be made of the Light Hydaelyn spoke of. To his side, Shirogawa drew his bow; it, too, was shining. Together, they took aim - and together, they struck out at the shadows which had so darkened their friend.

Lahabrea, impossibly, was separated from his body. And then all at once, the images of people who cared and worried about them at this very moment materialised beside them out of this Light - Minfilia, the Archons, even Kan-E Senna and Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn. And a man Aghurlal didn’t recognise, too - a Xaela Au Ra with a chin just like Shirogawa’s. All at once, they charged forward; all at once, Lahabrea was gone.

Thancred was free.

And unconscious, in fact; floating in the aether, Echoless as he was. Aghurlal and Shirogawa exchanged glances, then moved forward to collect the sleeping man.

As Aghurlal’s arms closed around him, the vision began to fade; the last thing he felt was Shirogawa hugging him, resting his face against the top of his head.


	6. The Ultimate Weapon, Pt. 5

“ _Thancred!!_ ”

Aghurlal didn’t think he’d ever run so quickly in his life as when he sprinted across the burning arena to Thancred’s unconscious form. The ground blurred under him with each footfall and then he was falling hard onto his knees, gathering the man up in his arms, just to check he’s warm, just to check he’s alive, just to– just to hold him.

Somewhere nearby, a pillar that had once supported large sections of the Praetorium crashed down. Aghurlal barely registered it until Shirogawa patted his shoulder.

“Where’s–” Aghurlal stood up, suddenly finding himself dizzy - the fires raged around them, burning Gods only knew what (Thaliak, wasn’t it? The god of wisdom?), and the smoke couldn’t be helping. “Where’s the exit? We have to get out of here!”

They were both looking, but they weren’t seeing. Maybe it was the smoke, maybe it was the panic - maybe it was the adrenaline finally wearing off. Where had their teammates gone? Had Hydaelyn spirited them away somewhere safe, or had they escaped on their own? Had they perished while Aghurlal and Shirogawa had been otherwise engaged..?

“I don’t think there is one,” Shirogawa said, eventually. “Not after what the Weapon did to this area.”

They stared at each other. Then Aghurlal shifted how he was holding the Hyur, so he could reach out to take Shirogawa’s hand. “We _will_ get out of  this,” he said firmly. “Somehow. We won’t get this far just to burn.”

Because that was what Aghurlal had always been running from, of course - the burning.

_It wasn’t going to take him now._

They walked, now, hand in hand, though already feeling weak from heat exposure and fumes - pacing around the arena, looking for somewhere that might be safe to climb, to slip through. When all of a sudden, Shirogawa stopped in his tracks and held a hand up. “I thought I…”  
“What?”

Then the Raen spun around and his face lit up like the break of day. “Aghurlal! Maggie is here!”

Aghurlal had never thought to see the modified magitek again; not after they’d sadly had to abandon her further back in the complex. Yet here she was - and she was exactly what they needed.

With renewed determination, Shirogawa helped Aghurlal climb up onto the back of the magitek walker, sitting across part of her casing as though it were a saddle - Thancred still cradled in his arms. Then Shirogawa took the driver seat - the motions came just as naturally to him as walking (which is to say, with a little pain, but nonetheless).

And then Maggie rescued them - jumped them out of the pit to the vent she’d found them through; just as she did so, another loadbearing pillar came down, taking what seemed like half the complex with it. Aghurlal could constantly feel the heat of fire at his back as they made their way up to the outside.

And oh, how glad they were to see that starry moonlit night…


	7. Difficult Victories

It was days since then, and it had been Y’shtola who had made the executive decision on where to take them.

They’d collapsed, the complex continuing to burn behind them - exhausted, injured, and really in no sort of state to be walking anywhere.

“I’ll teleport them to Camp Bronze Lake,” Y’shtola said, as Minfilia helped Aghurlal with Thancred and Yda assisted a shaking Shirogawa down out of the magitek cockpit. “Meet us there when you are able.”

It was Aghurlal’s third visit here - and in all honesty, the place was beginning to feel a little like home.

The rest of the Scions did join them, eventually (except Minfilia, Tataru, and Alphinaud; who were, for the most part, inundated with work at the Sands). And mercifully, so did Aghurlal and Shirogawa’s allies from the fight - the reunion was a cheerful one, both parties having feared the other perished. They’d managed to escape the battlefield after Lahabrea had inexplicably disappeared. Papalymo joyfully informed them all that there was to be some sort of honouring ceremony in Mor Dhona - “ _when_  you’re sufficiently recovered, of course”.

The injury on Aghurlal’s shoulder was worrying everyone else a good sight more than it worried Aghurlal. It didn’t even hurt; but he was on a rigorous course of salves and poultices designed to stop it from spreading.  
“Can a wound even _do_  that?” he’d snorted dirisively, as his bandages were changed for the third time that particular day.  
“We don’t know for certain,” Y’shtola had offered; she was leaning against the doorframe of the small medical chamber, frowning in thought. “However, it’s Ascian magic. The Students of Baldesion suggested it might be possible it would spread, or cause side-effects beyond simple pain.”

 _We don’t want to risk it. Not so soon after Thancred_ , was the silent implication.

Shirogawa had his own problems to be seen to by the medics, of course. Besides the cuts, scrapes, and bruises he earned during the fighting, ironically, most of his major issues were still hang-overs from his run-in with Titan. Turns out, being crushed by a Primal-thrown rock does quite the number on one’s nerves. The agonising pain, pins-and-needles, numbness, and stiffness in his legs had worsened since the rigorous activity involved in _saving the world from the Garlean Empire -_ although, at least, the treatments for such a thing were mostly taking hot baths, drinks of warmwine, and regular massages.

And then, of course… there was Thancred.

The man had evaded anything by way of physical _injury_ ; most of the fight had been about weakening Lahabrea’s magic, rather than striking at his body. But Lahabrea had not been taking good _care_ of that body. Thancred was weak, lethargic - he needed to eat proper food, again. _Sleep_ properly, again. And… come to terms with what happened, although he seemed to have a certain amount of resistance to that last one.

While Yda and Papalymo vanished to seek the whereabouts of Thancred’s old outfit, Thancred stubbornly resisted attempts at absolving him from the wrongdoings Lahabrea perpetrated using his body. It was his fault, he insisted; he _must_  make up for it.

But Aghurlal had his own ideas about what was whose fault. One evening, he presented a letter to Thancred. It was beautifully penned, and written in Doman; a language Thancred happened to be able to read, and so he did. It was an apology.

_I truly believed that to kill you was the only way to bring about Eorzea’s salvation. I say as much so as to illustrate the depths of my folly; and thus, of my corresponding regret. I can only thank Hydaelyn for intervening as she did. I can scarcely think to look at you, for thought that I might have ended your magnificent life; I don’t know how you can begin to forgive me._

Thancred seemed… stunned. And Aghurlal’s eyes filled with tears as the Hyur read through the letter; surely even now, Thancred was thinking of how best to reject his apology without ruining his reputation for being a gentleman?

Thancred folded the letter and set it down on the table, closing his eyes and smiling gently. “…Aghurlal,” he said, after a few moments. “It happens to the best of us. Don’t worry about it.”

Aghurlal blinked.

Thancred seemed to sense he should say more. “…and besides, I gave you quite the scar there on your shoulder. Between that and all the trouble I’ve caused over the last few months, why don’t we call it even?”  
“You didn’t,” Aghurlal said, hugging himself. “Lahabrea did.”  
Thancred’s smile wavered. “…yes, of course. I still say we call it quits, as it were.”

Maybe it was a shallow victory. More of a compromise, really. But it was one Aghurlal conceded to.

It was difficult to avoid one another in such a small encampment. Despite his and - Aghurlal suspected, Thancred’s as well - best efforts, they continued to run into one another. Slowly, they reacclimatised to each other’s company; slowly, Shirogawa got to know Thancred, as well. Slowly, they began to trust one another again.

By the time the date was announced for the celebration Papalymo had mentioned during their first week… the three of them were spending a _lot_  of time with one another.


	8. The End of an Era

It was the end of an era. Called together with many of the great heroes who had helped them on their journey in some small way, along with officers and delegates from the relevant organisations, Aghurlal and Shirogawa watched together as the Grand Company leaders named the Seventh Dawn they’d been working for all this time.

Though, Aghurlal’s head began to hurt. Shirogawa and Minfilia both glanced his way; he frowned, breathing out slowly. “What a time for an Echo,” he murmured, before resting his head on Shirogawa’s shoulder and letting it happen.

Only… this time…

None of the familiar light on visiting Hydaelyn. None of the familiar déjà vu of viewing another’s memories.

Just emptiness.

A feeling of dread settled into his spirit; was this it? Now the Astral Era had been declared, was Hydaelyn… gone? Was his _Echo_  gone?

But something began to loom out of the void. Slowly, ponderously, it began to rise - just as Hydaelyn had the first time he’d seen her. It hurt his eyes to look at, like he was trying to squint at something too close to his face.

Another great crystal…

And then the vision was over. He was still leaning on Shirogawa when he awoke once more; he rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. “What was it?” Shirogawa asked, but all he could answer was, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

It was a matter for another time–

A ferocious roar suddenly overtook the meeting: and thus it was that the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, barely rested from their previous adventures, were plunged straight back into another.


	9. A Final Temptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My story [Catch Up](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6094513) happens between this short and the previous one.

“…You might try and look a _little_  disappointed!”

Aghurlal smirked flatly. “Mm, no.”  
“What, do you mean to simply give me another of your stoic nods? You do, don’t you–”

Thancred was interrupted by the Auri man leaning down to kiss him, firmly, on the lips. He flustered - then rest a hand gently on Aghurlal’s arm, reciprocating the gesture.

They parted after a moment, exchanging a pair of grins.

“Why would I look disappointed,” Aghurlal said, “when I had such a parting gift in mind?”


	10. Eyes Unclouded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains mentions of drinking to excess and, also, my character gets low key #rekt by Moenbryda.

For all their successes in Coerthas, the evening of their return to the Rising Stones was not an enjoyable one. In fact, despite his distaste of Ishgard and its affairs, Aghurlal found himself almost wishing they’d taken Lord Haurchefant up on his offer to stay another night.

Having been bound by duty to attend the meeting with Ser Aymeric, they’d arrived back late. Aghurlal, for one, had expected a warm welcome. And sure, once they’d changed out of their armour and recounted their reports to Minfilia, they’d had quite a pleasant conversation with Y’shtola and Papalymo about events.

Only, then Aghurlal had remembered that F’lhaminn had promised them food - so, of course, he and Shirogawa went to ask after it.

At least the Miqo’te had the decency to look apologetic when she explained that the food was all gone. Aghurlal and Shirogawa’s stomachs grumbled as Aghurlal gaped. They’d– they’d fought a _primal_. Potentially discovered something of great gravity for the entire continent of Eorzea. Survived _Ishgardian politics_. And there wasn’t even a _snack_  waiting for them at the end of it?

But F’lhaminn looked looked tired, too. _Very_  tired. The manner of tiredness which didn’t come about from mere lack of sleep. And just at that moment, Aghurlal caught wind of why: a commotion to their right caught his attention, and he peered across the room into the work area to see…

Moenbryda… Hoary Boulder… and… Thancred…  _having a competition to see who could down a bottle of wine fastest_.

Fury bubbled in his chest. He grabbed Shirogawa’s arm and steered him in the other direction.

He knew Shirogawa didn’t like to see people drinking, especially to excess. It was lucky that Shirogawa’s own father - one of the two, anyway - had been among Lady Yugiri’s refugees, and thusly was staying at the Rising Stones. Aghurlal presented Shirogawa to him without any ado whatsoever - simply asking him to take care of him - and marched back to the bar, rolling up his sleeves.

“And where are _you_ going with a look like _that_?”

Papalymo’s voice caught Aghurlal sufficiently as to have him whirling around to face the Lalafell, gesturing furiously in the direction of the raucous laughter filling the hall.

Y’shtola, beside Papalymo, folded her arms. “I thought the Warrior of Light was supposed to _break up_  bar fights, not start them.”  
“Fuck that,” spat Aghurlal. “Do you know who started this pukshit?”

The Archons responded silently - both turning their gazes to the ceiling, as if to suggest the answer was obvious.  
“Thancred? Moenbryda?!”  
Y’shtola’s _sigh_  at the second name gave Aghurlal all the information he needed.

Bunching the white sleeves of his shirt further up his arms, Aghurlal swept with all the fury of his namesake and slammed his hand on the centre of the table around which the wayward Sharlayans were now gathered.

Yda gave a little “eep!” and stepped back; Thancred blinked dumbly at him. Moenbryda just looked at him. “What, are you upset we started without you? There’s still plenty left - well, some–”  
“ _Shut the fuck up_!” He slammed his hand again. “Was this your idea?!”

The laughter and chatter around them stopped. Aghurlal made brash eye contact with Moenbryda.

“What’s your problem, boy?” She sounded more bemused than Aghurlal would have liked.  
“My _problem_  is that you’re _selfish_! Your ‘entertainment’ comes before _all_  else, doesn’t it?!” He advanced on the woman, squaring up to her - she was easily a foot taller than him, but he didn’t care. “This alcohol is meant to be for _everyone,_ not just you! Drinking to excess isn’t _funny_! _Harassing Urianger isn’t funny!_ And I’d wager it was _you_  who ate the food F’lhaminn was saving for us, too! _Thancred is supposed to be QUITTING drinking_! I knew someone _else_  like you once, and I won’t watch this manner of _ridiculousness_  take over again!”  
“Ohh, Aghurlal!” Yda was making frantic gestures. “This really isn’t necessary! We can just talk about it–”  
“Yda, if the boy wants a fight, I can give him a fight!” Moenbryda grinned - purely amused, not cruel, which somehow made Aghurlal even angrier - and put her empty wine bottle down, cracking her knuckles. “Three rounds or just one, eh?”  
“We won’t need three,” Aghurlal growled, his tail lashing with impatience.

Rage misting his vision, he tackled her.

The next thing he knew, ringing pain was consuming his skull, and he couldn’t tell which way up he was - a profoundly disorientating experience usually resulting from having been struck square on the horn with something hard. A few more moments of consciousness told him that one side of his face was pressed against the flagstones of the ground, likely grazed or bruised or both.

The ringing in his horns cleared slowly. The first thing he heard was Yda fussing at a badly slurring Thancred that Aghurlal _had_  started it, really, but anyway surely they should be  _celebrating_ , not arguing like this–

He eventually registered another voice, much closer to him. It was F’lhaminn, asking him if he could hear her. Her small hand was squeezing his shoulder gently. He gave a pained grunt.

“He’s conscious, at least,” she said, her tone somewhat flat. Then, softer, she tried to help him sit up.

A wave of disorientation and nausea had him squeezing his eyes shut again - which made him realise that, while one was in pain from the impact with the floor, the other one was quickly swelling shut. _What was he going to tell Shirogawa?_ He felt F’lhaminn’s hands keeping him upright and retained a muffled sense of people talking around them, but beyond that, he was just as good as unconscious. _He hadn’t even landed a single blow. Ridiculous._

She sat him behind the bar while she cleaned the scrapes the floor had left on his face, gently taping sticking-plasters over the worst of them. His hearing slowly returned to normal, as did his balance - all both told him was how badly he’d failed. By the time he was well enough to wave F’lhaminn away with a thank-you and walk over to try and fetch Thancred, the Hyur was sprawled face-down on the table while a snickering Moenbryda suggested he was trying to fuck it and an anxious Yda tried to disassociate herself from the both of them.

He simply picked Thancred up like one might a child and shot Moenbryda a bruise-addled glare as he marched with all the pride he could muster back over towards the Stones’ residential rooms.

“Hey…” Thancred’s voice was quiet and hoarse against Aghurlal’s shoulder. “Hey…”  
“What,” he said coldly; he tried to ignore Y’shtola and Papalymo staring as he strode past them.  
“I jus’ gotta say… Yer a–” he hiccoughed loudly, and Aghurlal grimly hoped that he didn’t pass out or any such thing before they even got to the bed. “A pretty…”  
“Thancred,” Aghurlal murmured impatiently.  
“A… A… Yer all right.”

 _All right_?

Aghurlal took a deep breath. _All right?_  All this, and he was only _**all right**_?!

Thancred was drunk. He didn’t know what he was saying.

He dumped Thancred on his bed, made sure he was positioned so he wouldn’t _die_  in the night, and slammed the door behind him as he left.

He couldn’t go to Shirogawa; no doubt he would be just as distressed by Aghurlal’s presence right now than he would be by the drunk people to begin with. He couldn’t bear the sight of Yda or Moenbryda. Y’shtola and Papalymo were liable to accept his presence, though only with awkward silences; and Minfilia was likely to tell him off. And Aghurlal’s own room now contained Thancred - and he didn’t feel like being anywhere _near_  him, right now.

He felt all the zeal leave his body at once. In this place that was ostensibly his home, yet again, he had nowhere to feel safe.

But at least there was still one place he could go.

Heaving a sigh, he slumped his shoulders and - tracing his hand listlessly along the wall as he went - traipsed down the corridor. He knocked on the door he rarely visited and waited anxiously for it to be answered. He didn’t wish to bother the occupant with what was, in the grand scheme, such trivial things as Aghurlal dealt with day-to-day - only tonight, it seemed as though he may not have a choice, save sleeping in the corridor.

“Enter,” came the voice, and Aghurlal pushed his way inside.

“Do excuse me imposing,” Aghurlal mumbled. “Do you have anything you think I could read?”  
Urianger looked up from his book and eyed Aghurlal up and down. Aghurlal didn’t look at him.  
“…There maybe something in mine library suited to thine level of ability,” the Elezen said, mercifully quietly. “Allow me to procure thee a selection.”

And so Aghurlal picked through passages of Eorzean writing, struggling but generally succeeding to comprehend them; save the occasional request to Urianger for the meaning of a word, the two spent the remainder of the evening quietly in one another’s company.


	11. Mourn in Passing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter also contains spoilers for/assumes pre-knowledge of the DRG 50 quest.

“Forgive me, Estinien…” All eyes turned to Alphinaud as he spoke up, suddenly. “I can’t help but notice that your _fellow_  Azure Dragoon doesn’t suffer the same agony as you do.”

“An astute observation,” Ysayle commented, frowning suddenly. But Aghurlal hadn’t the time to feel self-conscious - he was too busy staring Estinien down, waiting for him to ‘wyrm’ his way out of _this_  one.

“…well,” Estinien said, standing slowly as his head apparently cleared, “I’ve been attuned to the Eye much longer. And it’s said only one born of Ishgardian lands could ever truly–”  
“ _Tell them._ ”

Aghurlal’s words cut across Estinien’s sentence with sharp, bitter intent.

Estinien resumed, apparently unperturbed. “Tell them what? There’s nothing besides–”  
“Tell them what you _did_ at the Steel Vigil!”

Aghurlal breathed; letting his anger simmer without boiling over, just like Fray had taught him. But he noted the arms folding all around them. It seemed the rest of the group now wanted to know what happened, too.

“We’re here in pursuit of the _truth_ ,” Aghurlal spat. “Now are you going to tell it, or are you to force my hand?! _Bringer of_ _Light_  or not, I’m afraid you can’t rightly expect me to be _complimentary_!”

Estinien dipped his head and looked away, staying silent.

“What, you cannot bring yourself to speak of how you came to be so _very close_  to Nidhogg’s will? Why Vidofnir warned _you_ , and not _I_ , of what might befall us further up the mountain?!”  
Still, Estinien remained silent.  
Aghurlal felt his fury flare. “What were your words, at the Vigil?! ‘Oh,  _mighty_ Nidhogg’–”  
Aghurlal heard Alphinaud give a little gasp, and Ysayle a surprised laugh. At the same time, Estinien snapped, “ _Enough_!”

Then Ishgard’s Azure Dragoon breathed out hard, bringing a hand up to cover what of his face wasn’t hidden by his helmet already. “I made a mistake. And Aghurlal speaks the truth, as always. That mistake is the cause of my present state.”

Estinien’s head remained bowed. Likely he couldn’t stand to look at the surprised expression on Alphinaud’s face, or the amused glee on Ysayle’s. Aghurlal could.

Suddenly, a hand on his shoulder jumped him out of his ire. He looked over to see the face of his husband. No words were exchanged between the two… but Shirogawa’s expression explained more clearly to him in this moment than words could. Aghurlal had done the right thing. But Estinien was hurting now. They needed to leave the topic - at least for the time being.

Aghurlal grunted and folded his arms, looking away from them and further up the mountain. They’d finish this later.

“We should keep moving on,” Shirogawa then said, quietly putting his arm around Aghurlal’s waist. “We’ve gotten this far together, after all.”  
Alphinaud nodded. “Let us see what lies beyond.”

They ascended.


	12. Beyond the Clouds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This short is set only a few hours after the previous one.

That night, Aghurlal Qar-aKimusun dreamt of fire.

He dreamt of campfires, and Ravana’s fires, and Ifrit’s fires. And then he dreamt of dragonfire. A voice spoke to him; it _raged_. Cursing the son, and the sons of all those men who walked Ishgard. Cursing the sons of this “Dusk Mother” and “Dawn Father”. Cursing the sons of Hraesvalgr. Cursing the son of Ferndale.

After not long of this, Aghurlal Qar-aKimusun didn’t dream at all. He sat up in his bedroll and cried.

He didn’t do that for long, either, though. Shirogawa was sleeping so peacefully… and that was a rare treat for the Raen. So he decided to go for a walk instead, to clear his head. They’d hardly seen a living soul since they arrived here, and the others ought to have been fast asleep by now - it was unlikely he’d be disturbed.

He was, unfortunately, mistaken. Too late to pretend he hadn’t seen him, Aghurlal realised he’d stumbled onto Estinien - who seemed to have had much the same idea.

He was still wearing his armour, even this late at night, but his helmet was off. His straight hair seemed to glow in the moonlight. Aghurlal ran a hand back through his own - recently cropped short and uneven once more - then looked back to his tent, wondering if he should simply turn around anyway.

“So he isn’t letting you sleep, either,” said Estinien bluntly.  
Wh– Oh. “…not simple nightmares, then?”  
“Not unless you and I are suddenly linked by some means _other_  than the Eye, no.” His arms remained folded.

Aghurlal sighed and folded his arms as well, looking down at his bare feet in the grass. A clinking of armour, and when Aghurlal looked over once again, Estinien was sat down - still gazing up at the stars, but with a hand patting expectantly at the ground beside him.

Oh. Really? Even after earlier..?

Fine.

Aghurlal sat.

“He doesn’t want us to be well-rested,” Estinien continued. “I suppose it suits his purposes.”  
“Are you angry at me for earlier?” Aghurlal asked.

Estinien closed his eyes. His brow twitched, seemingly in annoyance. “No.”  
“Oh.” Aghurlal ducked his head, frowning. “No?”  
“No. You only did what was just.”

Aghurlal was about to spit something back, until he realised this was probably as close as he was going to get to an _apology_ out of Estinien.

“…it _was_  a mistake.”  
Aghurlal hadn’t expected Estinien to continue on the line of thought, but he looked back over at him, curious to hear what he was going to say about it.  
“I let Nidhogg _play_  with me. Setting me against Alberic like that. I still think the old man’s a _swiving_  fool for doing what he did…” Estinien breathed a harsh sigh. “But killing him, or you, wouldn’t have changed anything. And reaching out to Nidhogg for the power to do it was…”  
“A mistake,” supplied Aghurlal.  
Estinien nodded, just once, another strand of silver hair falling loose from its tie.

As he had so many times, Aghurlal felt sympathy for his fellow Azure Dragoon swell in his chest. And so many times, it had turned to bitter fury as Estinien had betrayed him in one way or another… yet, the way their conflicts mirrored those of Ishgard and the Dravanians wasn’t lost on him. And after all, that’s what they were here to end.

Aghurlal drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them there, directing his gaze up to the moon. He was starting to chill; even in his thick pyjamas, and sheltered from the wind like they were. But sooner that than the sweltering heat of his dreams.

Maybe they’d be tired tomorrow, but for now… he could stand to sit here with Estinien for just a little longer.


	13. Dreams of Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could be set at any time during the 3.0 MSQ, really.

Aghurlal had a dream that he was fighting Ifrit again.

Only this time, Shirogawa was there. He guided him and looked out for him. When they were triumphant, he embraced him.

Aghurlal woke up to find himself really wrapped in Shiro’s arms. Shiro asked him if he’d had a nightmare; Aghurlal shook his head.


	14. Fire and Blood

_Burned out._

The words echoed in Aghurlal’s mind long past when they were spoken.

There wasn’t a doubt in Aghurlal’s mind that they needed to defeat this man. Gods only knew what was happening to Aymeric at this moment in time, but regardless, it had to be stopped - and Charibert the Stern stood in their way.

It should be simple enough. Wear down his defences until his aether runs dry, then strike to incapacitate. With the two Warriors of Light, a Leveilleur, and a rebel leader working together, surely they would triumph.

Surely…

Aghurlal remembered engaging Charibert in combat. He did. But what he remembered next made no sense. Ifrit had… there had been… flames, surrounding him, with no way out… burning his skin and his soul. Struggling to breathe and fearful that rescue would never come, not this deep into Amalj'aa territory… the mighty Warrior of Light collapsed.

The next thing he was aware of was Tataru’s small hands trying to rouse him. A few long moments of confusion gave way to comprehension that he was slumped on the ground outside the Forgotten Knight. Tataru was trying to parcel a hot drink into his hands, and he took it numbly, not really hearing whatever it was she was saying.

His head hurt. What had just happened?

“Was Charibert here?” he asked, his voice hoarse.  
“Oh, um… you’d better talk to the others about that,” said Tataru, wringing her apron in both hands and looking over at the assortment of famous faces stood over by the fountain. Lucia, Hilda, Alphinaud, Haurchefant… and Shirogawa. They looked somewhat worse for wear, and Alphinaud had a red carbuncle – ah. So the combat had been real, at least, even if his flashback to Ifrit had not been.

Aghurlal stayed sat where he was - drinking his tea and trying to work up the dignity to stride over like nothing had happened.

Eventually, though, it was Shirogawa that walked over to him. Sitting down beside him on the cold flagstones, his expression was one of concern. Aghurlal turned away from it. He didn’t want pity.

Shirogawa reached for one of Aghurlal’s hands to hold. “Are you all right? I saw you collapse in the corner of my eye, but Charibert was too much of a threat to leave to his own devices…”

“I’m fine,” Aghurlal replied, swallowing as Shirogawa took his hand. “What happened?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted, with some of his own embarrassment. “I was keeping my eyes set on Charibert to keep him away from the others, but suddenly you were out of the fire and there was another Au Ra with us. Before I had a chance to figure out who they were, they had left… Haurchfant had also joined in with us, but once Lucia arrived, Charibert took his leave. He… literally flipped his way out of there.”

“Another Au Ra… not your father?” Aghurlal sat up off the building, thanking Tataru for the drink and passing back the now-empty mug.  
“Not my father. I would have known if they were my father, and I doubt they would have left like this Au Ra had.”

Aghurlal thought on it, then suddenly made a face. “I know who it was. Don’t concern yourself with him.”  
Shirogawa’s eyes widened. “You knew who it was? Why would I not want to concern myself with him if he was able to help us?”  
Aghurlal ignored him. “What happens now?”  
Sighing, Shirogawa conceded. “We can talk about that later then. For now, we are about to save Ser Aymeric from the Vault. Lucia has let us know that he is indeed there.”

“ _Now_ , yes?” Aghurlal reached for his lance where it was gently propped upon the wall and used it to help himself stand. He wasn’t weak, just… shaky.  
Shiro nodded. “Yes. You will be all right to go with us? You were out for quite a bit and we wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Shirogawa, if they are asking us, that means they need us.” He offered a hand to help his husband stand. “I didn’t get this far to begin turning down duties; did you?”

Shirogawa took Aghurlal’s hand. “I sure did not!” Aghurlal hoisted him up.

“Then I believe we have a Lord Commander to rescue.”


	15. A Knight's Calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This short denotes our first major divergence from canon, and thusly **does not contain any character death**.
> 
> It also contains point-of-view from some of my other characters, who have been supporting Aghurlal and Shirogawa along their journey at various points. It begins with Telluric Medic, a hellsguard white mage; then progresses to Confiance des Ferme, an elezen scholar; before ending in Aghurlal's point-of-view once more.
> 
> Also worth noting that Aghurlal began his Dark Knight training shortly after he arrived in Ishgard to begin with.

His shield began to buckle, and she knew what she had to do.

It was over a year since the soul of A-Towa-Cant had been entrusted to her. He had opened her stone heart to new magic, forbidden magic - and using it now came as easily to her as breathing. Only this wasn’t breathing; this was gasping, drinking down air, taking as much as you could before you dove down, down, down into the Stream to fetch your charge.

Because she saw the Spear cackling, grabbing, grappling with Haurchefant’s will… and she knew he would not prevail. Not alone.

The first thing Telluric Medic had learned about conjury - and, by extension, white magic - was that despite the importance of understanding the elements and Elementals, the importance of bargains and tributes, the importance of being, none of that lay at its core. You could meditate for moons and still not see a single spit of water spring from your hand, nor the weakest zephyr of wind. Stones and sands came easiest to her, of course; but she didn’t bring about even the smallest boulder until after she comprehended the principle in question. It wasn’t about power, or mastery. It wasn’t about magnanimity, or kindness. It was about resolve. Determination. _Selfishness_.

Because there was nothing more powerful than planting your feet on the ground and saying _no. Not this time. Not this one. **He’s mine**._

She didn’t even need to see the Spear piercing Haurchefant’s chest to know that it was time to dive.

–

Scribbling hastily in his grimoire, Confiance desFerme threw up a barrier - but it was too late.

Moments later, Zephirin’s attack pierced Haurchefant’s shield. Then his body.

At least they were guarded from further attacks.

Aymeric began to run forward as Haurchefant hit the ground. Confiance could see Medic was already casting, so he knew his help was likely unneeded - her magic was far more effective than his in terms of unplanned emergencies, so he focussed on what he knew how to do. Flicking through pages of his book, he searched for the incantation that would allow him to revive an exhausted ally. He’d probably need it in a moment.

Bright white aether poured into Haurchefant’s wound as Aymeric lifted the knight’s ailing body. Shirogawa fell to his knees by the side of them both, utterly distraught; Confiance paused, quill hovering.

“You…” Haurchefant spoke, even with the gaping wound in his abdomen. He was looking at Shirogawa. “You are unharmed? F-Forgive me… I could not bear the thought of…”

Medic’s spellcasting intensified. Haurchefant trailed off. Confiance felt his own brow furrowing, his heart bracing itself for what was no doubt to come.

But Haurchefant managed just a little more. “Oh, do not look at me so,” he told Shirogawa, humour in his tone. “A smile better suits a hero…”

Shirogawa mustered the smile that was requested; and then Haurchefant fell, at last, silent.

Moments later, Medic stopped casting. The blue burning at the wound had ceased; Confiance glanced between it and Haurchefant’s shield, which was still simmering. What _was_ that spell? And how could he better defend his companions the next time they were called to face it? He would have to strategise. But not right now.

It was Medic’s turn to fall to her knees. Even with Haurchefant’s wound mundane, it was still life-threatening - a gaping hole in his chest, leading down into his abdomen, and with his body saturated with aether there’d be no healing it through means of arcanima. And Haurchefant… wasn’t breathing.

Shirogawa, who was clutching Haurchefant’s hand in both of his own, stayed silent.

With a sad smile, Confiance stepped forward to stand by Medic’s side. He felt Lily, sat passively on his shoulder until then, shift skins into Eos - no doubt prepared to bring Medic the soothing reassurance of her light. Medic needed to know that she’d done her best.

But then…

But then…

Haurchefant’s chest rose. Just once.

“Oh–!!” Confiance heard himself say. Lily flew to his backpack and immediately began rooting around in it - no doubt for the first-aid supplies Confiance was about to need.

Haurchefant’s chest rose again. Confiance was on his knees by now - they ached, brittle beyond their years, but that wasn’t important. Lily passed him bandages, clamps, alcohol; everything he needed to stabilise the wound for transport to theatre.

Confiance started barking orders. Haurchefant’s chest rose again. Estinien needed to walk Aymeric down to the chirurgeons; Lucia needed to send for the best trauma surgeons she knew; someone needed to send word to House Fortemps; all the while, he and Lily working together to ensure Haurchefant didn’t lose the gift that Medic had so determinedly fought for on his behalf.

Haurchefant’s chest rose again.

_He was going to live._

–

Aghurlal watched events as though they were a thousand malms away.

Haurchefant… but no. All he could see was his husband. Aghurlal had sprinted ahead to try and board the airship, loathe to let the Archbishop get away - when all of a sudden he’d heard Haurchefant shouting behind them, and turned just in time to see the Spear strike down from the heavens. _It had been aiming for Shirogawa. And Aghurlal hadn’t even noticed._

There was no time for that right now, something inside of him reminded him. He glanced about wildly for the airship, catching sight of it up near the roof - wind speeds and leverages spun around in his mind, but even with the Eye so close, fifty fulms away in the grasp of his fellow Azure Dragoon, he wasn’t confident he could make the jump. Zephirin boarded the airship. Aghurlal watched it leave.

Vengeance burned in his heart for what they tried to do. For what they already did. For Aymeric, and for Haurchefant. For every citizen of this foreign city who had been wronged. For Shirogawa. He felt the Dark Knight soulstone seething against his skin where he kept it, tucked under his armour and close to his chest. _They would **not** get away with this._

His eyes stayed trained on the airship until it was out of sight.

Archbishop Thordan VII was going to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Immediately after this short is my story [Our Maladaptive Coping Mechanisms](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7961332).


	16. A Knight's Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This short is from the point of view of Confiance des Ferme, an elezen scholar who has assisted Aghurlal and Shirogawa throughout their journeys.
> 
> It also mentions a number of my other OCs. You can read most of their bios [here](http://kilieit.tumblr.com/balmung).

“How is he?”  
Confiance turned to the House Fortemps chirurgeon with a wry smile. “I assume you mean Haurchefant.”

Truth be told, their entire party could be described as ‘he’; and their entire party was worse the wear for their encounter in the Vault.

Shirogawa and Aghurlal were, thanks to the mercy of Nymian scholarship and Ampadori white magic combined, relatively unscathed for their ordeal. Confiance himself was unscathed, as well, for all of Ishgard’s fury - why, his work had only just begun.

Most of their reason for accompanying the others on the break was diplomatic, in all honesty. After all, Admiral Bloefhiswyn would not have allowed Ishgard’s elite access to her military facilities had the Maelstrom-aligned portions of the Eidolons not unanimously requested it. Y'Trinity hadn’t joined them, admittedly - she was in Gridania assisting Medic’s recovery, which was in the hands of the Padjal. But Aghurlal and Shirogawa had spent large portions of their time simply watching the lake and talking between themselves, or with the odd companion of Aghurlal’s that had joined the party once they arrived at the lake.

Aymeric and Estinien had taken to spending the hours in no company save that of each other, but Confiance insisted on seeing Aymeric’s wounds at least once a day. Terrible things had been done to him - if not in terms of physical consequences, then in terms of emotional ones. Confiance knew the type of person Aymeric was - he was similar himself, after all - and knew he would not come forward for support; so between him and the entourage of medics that Edmont had seen fit to bring with them, Aymeric was ensured not to be left wanting for assistance.

It had taken almost half the first week for Estinien, too, to confess to having sustained similar injuries during his trip to the Aery. Bruises and burns covered much of his skin. And although Confiance got the sense that, like Aymeric, deep psychological wounds ran alongside the physical ones… yet unlike Aymeric, Estinien’s were out of reach.

Confiance opted to focus on helping the people he could. Namely, Haurchefant Greystone.

In all academic honesty, Haurchefant’s ailment was fascinating. It hadn’t been difficult to persuade Surito Carito to take time away from his ongoing studies into the Green Death to at least look at the residual effects of what Zephirin had done.

Haurchefant was breathing, yes; the emergency surgery he’d undergone in Ishgard before his transportation here had done wonders for fixing the actual physical wound in his abdomen. Small doses of aetheric healing, and Lily’s fair assistance, went ways to seeing the wound kept free of pestilence. Generous shipments of alchemical substances to maintain the vigour of one kept utterly bedridden - an ironic gift, given in good jest and with hopes for reconciliation with the East Aldenard Trading Company - kept Haurchefant’s muscles in good shape while he rested.

And yet… he did not awaken, nor show any signs of doing so.

Confiance and the House Fortemps chirurgeons admitted to being at something of an impasse as to why. By all means, he was on his way to recovery; a long one, potentially moons or even years before he could lift a sword again, but nonetheless. It was almost as if something was _stopping_ him from awakening.

Confiance began to grow glad that it was Artoriel who had accompanied them, and not Edmont. He felt much more comfortable allowing _him_ to share such confusing and upsetting news with his devastated father.

Almost towards the end of their two-week respite, and with preparations already being made to make the return journey to Ishgard, Surito had something of a breakthrough; the jist being that the nature of the spell Medic had used to prevent Haurchefant from passing away meant that there was a problem with the integration matrix between his physical form and his spirit. It needed time and support to mend fully, after which he would be able to awaken once more: a steady supply of carefully applied aether, ideally from the school of arcanima so’s to encourage conformation to the proper manner; and patience. Lots and lots of patience.

Haurchefant wasn’t out of the woods yet, the tonberry warned. Without proper attention, his spirit could still escape back into the lifestream. He needed careful, close monitoring.

“However, he is lucky,” he added; smiling up at Confiance. “With you overseeing his treatment, I see little reason why he would fall into such disrepair.”

Confiance found himself smiling back. Surito was right. The House Fortemps medics were eager to learn new techniques that might help Haurchefant; although Confiance would eventually be called back to assist the Eidolons in combat once more, by the time that happened he had no doubt that there would be one similarly competent to ensure Haurchefant’s recovery.

That was a lot easier to tell Edmont, he had to admit.


End file.
